


Stop the Press

by Allemande



Series: Learning the Language [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Established Relationship, Family, Friendship, Gossip, Journalism, M/M, Relationship Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allemande/pseuds/Allemande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bashir and Garak travel to Earth, an article is published revealing their relationship to the general public. Julian has to deal with his parents, with being under siege at Starfleet HQ, and with the fact that Garak seems to be avoiding contact with him...<br/>Part III in my <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/57988">Learning the Language series</a> but can be read on its own, too. (Background: established relationship, Bashir has been living on Cardassia for a year.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Julian

**1 - JULIAN**  
  
  
 _JJ: Hello hello my lovelies, welcome to Stars and Supernovas, The LA Talkshow! I’m your host, Jeremiah Jockstrap!_  
 _Audience: [cheers and applauds]_  
 _JJ: My, what a weekend. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had more Taryllian spinach waffles than sexual adventures, and that’s saying something._  
 _Audience: [laughs]_  
 _JJ: Great show for you tonight – Hortense Hirondelle is joining me later, how about that!_  
 _Audience: [applauds]_  
 _JJ: But first, let’s talk about something I heard about this weekend. Now, I won’t name names, you know me –_  
 _Audience: [giggles]_  
 _JJ: – but something truly outrageous has reached my ears, and everybody knows that my ears are better than those of the entire Ferenginar Golden Orchestra!_  
 _Audience: [laughs]_  
 _JJ: I have heard, my lovelies, rumours of an extreeeemely interesting nature concerning an alliance between two people, who – I will say this much – aren’t necessarily from the same corner of the universe, but from the same riverbank if you get my meaning!_  
 _Audience: [oohs]_  
 _JJ: Being from two different planets is of course not so unusual these days – although I’ve got to say, some of the couples you see walking around this town are truly amazing. Once you’ve seen a seven-foot Hupyrian arm in arm with a Dwarf Gorn, which is actually more a case of ‘arm around leg’, you’ve seen it all._  
 _Audience: [laughter]_  
 _JJ: Anyway, in this case both persons involved lend a certain… how shall we say… politically explosive nature to the affair. Now, that’s all I’m going to say about it, my lovelies –_  
 _Audience: [awws]_  
 _JJ: –  except maybe that this may very well be a huge step towards lasting peace between Earth and a certain other planet whom we haven’t been very friendly with lately!_  
 _Audience: [oohs]_  
 _JJ: Now, let’s get on with the show!_  
  
***  
  
A little trip to planet Earth would do them good, they had said. Lots of different-looking people, lots of mixed-race friendships and relationships, easy to blend in. Time to relax a little.  
  
Well, bollocks.  
  
Julian peeped through the blinds for the umpteenth time. Yet another journalist had joined the not-so-silent vigil in front of his parents’ house. That made a total of eighteen. That there was nothing to film except a pretty little house with the blinds drawn on all the windows and an immaculately tidy front garden didn’t seem to faze them. They appeared sure that he would leave the house at some point.  
  
“Secure connection established,” announced the computer, and Julian leapt towards the nearest console.  
  
“Contact Star Fleet Headquarters, subdivision Foreign Liaisons.”  
  
“Foreign Liaisons, how can I help you?” asked the timid-looking ensign who appeared on his screen. Hmm, no reaction to seeing his face. Hadn’t read the newsreel yet, then, or was a better actor than he looked.  
  
“Dr Julian Bashir. I’d like to speak to the Cardassian ambassador, please. He knows who I am. I’ve already tried to reach him three times today on his personal communicator.”  
  
The screen went black for a few moments, then the timid ensign reappeared. “I’m sorry, Dr Bashir, the ambassador is busy. Can he call you back?”  
  
Julian stared at him. “Busy? How do you mean?”  
  
“He can’t be reached momentarily.”  
  
“You did tell him my name,” Julian said, although it came out more like a growl.  
  
“Yes, doctor,” said the ensign patiently. “He asked me to tell you that he was busy, and that he would call you back when he was available.”  
  
“Fine,” said Julian through gritted teeth, closed the connection, and hit the console with his flat hand. The customary warning against deterioration of technical hardware in case of improper use was played by the computer, which Julian barely heard.  
  
What the hell was Garak doing, ignoring him like that?  
  
An incoming call was announced, and Julian accepted it instantly. Miles O’Brien’s face appeared on the screen, and for the first time ever, Julian was disappointed it was him.  
  
“Hold on, I’ll switch to a secure connection.” He tapped a few buttons, and Miles’ face reappeared.  
  
“It was secure already,” grumbled Miles. “Which I would have told you had you given me a second.”  
  
“Sorry.” Julian ran a hand over his face. “Bit stressed right now.”  
  
“No wonder. That’s one hell of a mess.”  
  
“Yeah.” He switched the message to a hand-held screen and sat down on the couch.  
  
“How are you holding up?” asked Miles, looking sympathetic.  
  
“Well, I’m under siege in my parents’ house, eighteen journalists on the lawn, I can’t reach my parents because they’re down at the beach with no communicator on them, and Garak won’t respond to my calls.” He frowned. “All in all, great.”  
  
“Sorry to hear it, mate. Anything I can do?”  
  
“Unless you know how to install a transporter in this house by remote control, can’t think of anything.” Julian shook his head, realizing he had sounded rather unfriendly. “Sorry. Actually, it would be great if someone could contact my parents and tell them about this before they come up from the beach and find out from –”  
  
He stopped. There had been a sudden violent increase in volume from outside, and he ran to the window.  
  
“Ugh. Never mind, Miles.”  
  
***  
  
“Julian,” said Amsha, rushing through the door, and hugged him. Julian held on to her tightly while watching his father roughly push the most insistent of the journalists back onto the lawn and shut the door forcefully behind him.  
  
“What happened, Julian? What do these people want?” he asked without preamble. Julian dimly noticed, through the haze that had settled over his mind, that while his mother had put on her djellaba over her swimsuit, Richard Bashir was only wearing a pair of swimming trunks and a towel that was too small for him tucked around his waist. Great. Another picture to add to their collection.  
  
Julian sighed, sinking back into the couch. “What did they tell you?”  
  
“I didn’t really understand it, they were shouting so much,” Amsha said, smiling, and Julian instinctively smiled back – and then stopped at once when he remembered what he had to tell them.  
  
“There was something about an affair and Cardassia,” said Richard. “I didn’t get the rest.” They looked expectantly at him, and Julian ran a nervous hand through his hair.  
  
“I wish I could have told you about this in my own time,” he said. “Please believe me that I did want to tell you soon, though. Just… well, not like this.”  
  
He paused, not for effect, but to collect his thoughts, and Richard gave one of his short, good-humoured laughs. “You make it sound so dramatic, Jules,” he said. The old name still slipped out every now and then, but Julian didn’t mind so much now. “Surely it can’t be that bad.”  
  
“Er,” said Julian.  
  
The PADD on the table beeped, announcing an incoming call.  
  
Julian winced. “Sorry, I’d better take this.”  
  
“Dr. Bashir,” said the man who appeared on the screen. “I am Lieutenant Ferris, in charge of Starfleet personnel security on Earth. I’ve been informed by Senior Chief O’Brien that you are currently facing a… situation at your parents’ house. Do you require assistance?”  
  
Julian had to smile. Miles was quite something.  
  
He looked at his parents, who nodded. “Anything to get those off the front lawn,” murmured Amsha.  
  
Julian arranged the proceedings with Lt. Ferris, and not fifteen minutes later, after having packed the most necessary things as instructed, they saw a ground shuttle turning into their street. Three ensigns got out, made their way through the swarm of journalists without saying a single word, and escorted the Bashir family back through the mob into the shuttle.  
  
Very efficient, thought Julian, and wondered how he had managed to be so high priority.  
  
There was no time and no occasion on their way to Starfleet HQ to talk to his parents, and Julian just hoped he would have a quiet moment with them before someone else told them what was going on.  
  
***  
  
“Thank you for your quick reaction, Lieutenant,” Julian said as they entered Lieutenant Ferris’ office inside Starfleet HQ. “Er, these are my parents, Amsha and Richard Bashir.”  
  
They shook hands and sat down. Julian saw Lt. Ferris studying his parents curiously, maybe wondering why they were looking so clueless, or how they would react when they found out. Or maybe Julian was just getting paranoid.  
  
“So we owe it to Miles O’Brien that we got transferred here so quickly?” Julian asked.  
  
“Well, Senior Chief O’Brien and Ambassador Garak contacted me at almost the same time. But we’d heard about the, er, affair earlier this morning.” Julian, seeing him studying his parents again, slowly started panicking. “As a matter of fact, the whole matter has now been labelled high risk.”  
  
“What sort of affair –” Richard began, but Julian cut him short. “High risk? Why?”  
  
“Well, the last similar case ended up endangering the family of one of the people involved.” Lt. Ferris cleared his throat. “I don’t wish to alarm you, Dr Bashir, but you might want to look up a few details concerning Amanda Grayson’s history.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, then added, “Of course, we’ve come a long way since then.”  
  
“Oh, a very long way,” said Julian, sarcastically, and he thought Lt. Ferris gave him a small smile. “Well, at least we’re in famous company.”  
  
“Julian –” began Richard again, and Julian looked at him. “I’m sorry, dad, mum – I promise I’ll explain this to you later.”  
  
His mother looked even more concerned at that, while his father looked slightly irritated at being kept in the dark. Finally, they nodded. Julian noted that Lt. Ferris had tactfully found something interesting to study on his console.  
  
Having assigned the Bashirs temporary quarters at HQ, Ferris called an ensign to escort them there. “You’ll find me here if you need anything,” he said, getting up. “Oh, and… you might want to stay in HQ for the time being. We have a front lawn, too, if you know what I mean.”  
  
Julian swallowed. “I see.” He hesitated for a moment, wondering whether he should ask if the Lieutenant had heard from Garak or if he could tell him where to find Foreign Liaisons. In the end, though, his pride got the better of him. What would Ferris think about the state of their relationship?  
  
“Thank you for everything, Lieutenant,” he said instead, and shook the Lieutenant’s hand.  
  
“Good luck,” he thought he heard Ferris say quietly as they left his office.  
  
***  
  
“So,” said Richard Bashir, sitting down next to his son.  
  
“So,” said Julian.  
  
There was a long silence.  
  
“Do you want us to guess?” asked Amsha, in that sweet, playful manner she always adopted when she sensed someone was uncomfortable.  
  
“I doubt you can,” mumbled Julian. This was much worse than announcing his engagement to  Palis, whom he knew his mum hadn’t particularly liked. At least she’d been human. And a woman. Not that this kind of thing should really matter these days, har har.  
  
“Well, let’s see,” said Richard, sounding his most jovial, and Julian forced himself not to glare at him. “Some article or other has been published about you, involving you in some sort of affair that’s got to do with Cardassia. It’s ‘high risk’, so my guess is it’s political. You’re not involved in their secret service or something, are you?”  
  
Julian had to chuckle. How ironic that his father would think of that first, when his thoughts concerning Garak had turned around nothing but that for years and years, completely blocking out other thoughts or feelings.  
  
“No,” he said. “No secret service. It’s not even political. Well, apart from the fact that there’s an important politician involved…” He got up and tried not to feel paranoid as he checked all the doors and did a quick check on the computer for surveillance. All clear. Well, here goes. He turned back to his parents, who looked up at him expectantly.  
  
“The truth is, I’m… When they said ‘affair’, they didn’t mean as in ‘coup’ or something. They meant it as in ‘relationship’.”  
  
His father’s eyes widened. “You’re in a relationship with a Cardassian?” He could tell Richard wasn’t sure whether to be delighted or worried.  
  
“Er, yes. And not just any Cardassian.” It had to be the most annoying one of them, he thought. “This is going to be a little hard to get used to, because it’s not the kind of person you would usually have seen me with.”  
  
He could see the moment the penny dropped in Amsha’s mind, and then saw, almost in slow motion, her hand go to her mouth, and Richard turn to her for the answer.  
  
***


	2. Garak

**2- Garak**  
  
  
 _Vulcans. They’ve been our friends for almost two centuries, ever since Zefram Cochrane made First Contact and we entered into a new era of space travel and exploration._  
 _For some, as it has now emerged, they’ve become even more than friends. You might say that some have taken exploration a step further._  
 _Everyone is free to love whom they want: that is one of the principles of our modern and peaceful society. And many have said that Miss Grayson has made a very handsome choice._  
 _But a question remains: are our intensely rational, logical friends even capable of Love?_  
 _Or is this a political choice? Looking back through our planet’s history, we can find political alliances in many places, for instance among the old royals. Is this something similar? Have our Vulcan friends made a strategic move? If so, what are their objectives? And what else may we expect from this union?_  
 _(LA New Times editorial, ca. 2230)_  
  
***  
  
Garak’s fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on his desk. Why was Osharan not responding? True, it was nighttime in Lakat. But the Prime Minister didn’t normally sleep much, and Garak had told his aide it was a ‘matter of planetary importance’.  
  
Damn those journalists. There was a reason Cardassians had a very different concept of the freedom of press from the Federation. This couldn’t have happened on _his_ homeworld.  
  
After the twentieth attempt to contact the Cardassian Prime Minister, he sighed and leant back in his chair. No statement could be issued before he hadn’t spoken to his boss: that was unwritten Cardassian law. Which meant that he couldn’t leave HQ.  
  
Garak closed his eyes and breathed in and out deeply, trying not to feel trapped.  
  
His interface beeped, announcing that he had received a message, and he shot up from his reclining position, regretting it almost at once; these Federation chairs were extremely uncomfortable. He rubbed his back as he checked his message board. Not Osharan, unfortunately: Lieutenant Ferris from Security, who informed him about the Bashirs’ arrival at HQ. He nodded; it was good to see the Federation reacting so quickly to this possible threat.  
  
Speaking of possible threats – he might as well ask this Ferris to look into Helen Porter, who, now that Julian and his family were safe, was his chief worry. A thorough background check and a security detail to follow her would be adequate, he thought; one couldn’t be careful enough with that sort of person. He started tapping out a message to Ferris, then thought better of it. Best to request these things in person; he didn’t know Ferris, after all.  
  
And it gave him a good excuse to leave the confines of his office.  
  
***  
  
“Ambassador,” the ensign at the reception desk hailed him as arrived back at Foreign Liaisons, “Doctor Bashir was here just now, asking to see you. I told him you would get back to him.”  
  
Garak nodded. “Thank you, Ensign. I’ll be in my office.”  
  
He felt the man’s curious stare in his back as he stepped through the door into his office. Ugh. He could simply not get used to the hideous architecture of this place. And to top it all off, they’d tried to add some “art” to liven up the grey, and a huge painting behind his desk greeted him whenever he stepped in. Julian had called the artist Picasso; Garak had been sorely tempted to call him a lunatic. He knew he should be grateful that Starfleet let him and his aides use their offices while the Cardassian embassy was being built; but he couldn’t deny he was looking forward to the time when he would be working in something that reminded him of home even just a little bit.  
  
He checked his message board. No message from Osharan, but one from his aide. Osharan was on a trip around Cardassia to assess war repairs, witness new citizen initiatives and generally spread support; so it wasn’t entirely surprising that he didn’t have the time to talk to Garak. He had instructed the aide to tell Garak that they would talk about the affair as soon as he was back in Lakat, which was in three days, and the message had sounded friendly enough.  
  
Still, Garak was worried. What if Osharan advised him to end this in order not to put Cardassia into a negative spotlight (again)?  
  
Garak sat back, folding his arms behind his head. It was all extremely vexing. Not altogether surprising, of course. The article that had started all this was badly written and rather shocking in its vulgar sensationalism, but it wasn’t as though their story wasn’t worth telling.  
  
He frowned, shaking himself out of his reverie. Speaking of vulgar sensationalism, there was still Helen Porter to worry about. Garak had found Lieutenant Ferris to be a professional man, even reasonably friendly compared to the way Humans usually treated him. Ferris had promised that they would look into Ms. Porter and her activities. Meanwhile, Garak would do a bit of his own digging.  
  
***


	3. Miles

**3 - Miles**  
  
  
 _Presenter: And now let’s turn to our favourite part of the program, the gossip columns with Wilhelmina Thompson. Mina!_  
 _WT: Thanks, Carl. Well, you can all guess our favourite program’s favourite subject today, and I’m pleased to announce that we have with us Helen Porter, who first published the article and the pictures revealing the relationship between a certain ambassador and a certain Starfleet doctor. Ms Porter, thank you so much for coming!_  
 _HP: Not at all, thank you for having me._  
 _WT: Tell us how you found out about these two. And how did you get those pictures?_  
 _HP: Ooh, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. Secrets of the trade and all, y’know? Let me just say this, though: those two weren’t exactly hard to figure out._  
 _WT: How did you even get the idea to follow them? They’ve been on Earth for what, a week?_  
 _HP: Well, I’d heard about the Cardassian delegation arriving on Earth and heard that there was a Human travelling with them, let’s just say that piqued my interest._  
 _WT: And I guess there’s no point asking how you even got access to the passenger list of the ship that was carrying the delegation._  
 _HP: That’s correct._  
 _WT: (laughs) So what are your next moves?_  
 _HP: I’ve been trying to get an interview with the two, but they’re very shy. I guess you would be when you see some of the people that have turned up in front of HQ. That’s why I’m not going to hassle them there (looks into the camera) but I’ll be waiting for your call, gentlemen._  
 _WT: You certainly are very sure of yourself._  
 _HP: I’m just saying it might be better to talk to me than to someone who doesn’t know anything about them. And if they won’t, too bad. But I haven’t completely exhausted my resources yet so even if I don’t get the big interview, I might still have one or two interesting things to say about them._  
 _WT: Ooh, well we’re looking forward to the next few days then!_  
  
***  
  
Throughout the years, Miles O’Brien’s opinion of Julian Bashir had undergone quite a few changes. He’d gone from thinking the man a pompous idiot who talked too much, past considering him a likeable idiot who talked too much but also happened to be someone you could rely on in difficult times, to calling him his best friend (who could be an idiot at times and still talked too much).  
  
He’d never been mad at Julian for not telling him about his genetic enhancements: he’d understood that Julian had hidden the truth from everyone, maybe even from himself at times. He had, however, felt oddly proud when receiving a letter from his friend in which Julian told him about his relationship with Garak. It was proof of the trust Julian put in him, and Miles was glad of it. What he thought about the actual revelation, well, he still wasn’t sure about that six months later.  
  
Two days after that infamous article had come out, he was strolling through the hothouses at Berkeley Botanics with his friend. Keiko, who was now a professor here, had suggested this to him when he’d expressed his worry about Julian being locked up at HQ with his parents. Miles had assured Security that the hothouses were closed to the public at this time of day, and they had arranged to beam Julian over.  
  
“So how’s Garak dealing with it?” he asked after they’d been walking through the vast halls for a while, enjoying the tropical air.  
  
Julian frowned. “I’m not sure.”  
  
Miles gazed at him. “Everything all right between you two?”  
  
Julian shrugged. “Yeah, sure. We’re just both stressed, I guess.” He sighed. “And… well… I haven’t seen a lot of him since this thing started. He seems obsessed with keeping communication to a minimum.”  
  
“How do you mean?”  
  
Julian ran a hand through his hair distractedly, and Miles suddenly saw how tired he was. “Well, the day that thing came out he didn’t contact me at all, he just contacted Security to ask them to transfer us to HQ – pretty much at the same time you did. That night, and yesterday, I went to his office and he was ‘out’ both times, whatever that means, and last night he sent me a message that he was going to New York on some ‘urgent business’ and that he’d explain when he was back.”  
  
Miles nodded. Sounded just like the Garak he’d known back then. He wasn’t about to tell Julian this, but ever since he’d heard about it, he hadn’t exactly envied his friend for what must surely be a pretty difficult relationship.  
  
“And what about your parents?”  
  
“Ugh.” They walked quietly for a while, then Julian sighed. “I suppose they took it pretty well. They looked rather alarmed when I told them. But then again, when I told them I was engaged to Palis, my mother said nothing but ‘yes’ and ‘no’ for a whole month. Maybe they just hate the thought of my being with someone.”  
  
Miles chuckled. “It’s a parent thing. I cannot tell you how much the thought of Molly and Kirayoshi _dating_ someone at some point in the future drives me up the wall.”  
  
Julian laughed. “Fair enough. And I guess when your child is going out with a man you develop a subconscious fear of being replaced as a father or something.”  
  
“You a psychologist now?” commented Miles, and Julian grinned.  
  
“I have my moments. Anyway, all in all, my parents could have made more of a scene.”  
  
“Hm.”  
  
“Is that ‘hm’ for ‘that’s good’ or ‘hm’ for ‘I can see where they’re coming from’?”  
  
Miles raised his eyebrows. “Paranoid much?”  
  
Julian sighed. “Maybe. It’s just… well, you’ve never been a huge fan of Garak’s.”  
  
“Julian, to be perfectly frank, I don’t think anyone on DS9 was, apart from you.” Miles stopped, turning to his friend. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t support you. And… well, I’m prepared to give him a chance.”  
  
It was a little harsh, he thought right after saying it, and wondered if he should qualify it somehow. But they’d never been polite to each other, Julian and him; they’d almost always said exactly what they thought, and he knew they both liked it that way. He couldn’t pretend he’d always liked Garak, or liked the fact that Julian seemed so fascinated with him (looking back, it had always been there, hadn’t it?). But he did genuinely feel that if Julian loved him, he could probably come to accept, perhaps even like the man.  
  
“Thanks, Miles,” Julian said, and Miles saw to his relief that his friend seemed to appreciate his frankness.  
  
“I think what I actually meant by ‘hm’ was that it didn’t sound like you’d really talked to your parents about it yet.”  
  
“Are you saying you don’t believe me?”  
  
Miles looked at his friend quickly and was shocked to see how vulnerable he looked.  
  
“No, of course not,” he said. “I know you told them, but did you really talk about it – properly?”  
  
“Er…” Julian looked a little sheepish. “Well, I was meeting some friends from the Academy for dinner.”  
  
“You ran off after telling them, basically,” Miles commented, grinning, and Julian glowered at him.  
  
They continued walking in silence for a while. Finally, Julian added, “You know, it’s a little hard to admit it to myself, but some part of me wishes I were in a normal relationship, with someone, well, a little more normal. I love Garak, and I’m proud of the fact that I’ve managed to break through his shell, you know? But sometimes I just think… well, it would have avoided this whole mess, at any rate.”  
  
Miles nodded. “Makes perfect sense to me. But we don’t choose who we’re with, I suppose.” He gave a wry smile. “Talk of the devil, Keiko asked me to invite you and Garak to dinner one of these days.”  
  
***


	4. Amsha

**4 -Amsha**  
  
  
 _//_ _I think it’s great. It just shows that Vulcans aren’t the emotionless machines some people have called them. I for one have always liked them, and I’m glad Amanda, who is a teacher after all, can now teach them how to let go of this “logical” façade and make them smile. Human-Vulcan relations have just gone one step further, and we should all be glad of it! //_

 _// This just demonstrates what we’ve known all along, doesn’t it? It’s not enough for them to ‘guide’ us, as our government is always so keen on calling it, into a new era of space travel and intergalactic peace. They want to control us, period. And what better way than to take a Human in (and don’t we all know how easily our women become besotted with Vulcan men!) and study her as closely as they can? It’s part of a plan, and we need to find out what they’re after before it’s too late._ _//_

 _(Letters to the editor of the LA New Times, ca. 2230)_  
  
***  
  
Amsha Bashir, who loved her two boys dearly, sometimes wished they would realize how similar they were. They were both ambitious, they both had lots of new ideas, and they were both passionate about finding solutions for problems. Unfortunately, there were a lot of misconceptions between them. While Julian seemed to think Richard changed jobs so often because he wasn’t good at anything, Amsha knew it was because he got bored easily and was always hungry for new things. While Richard thought Julian had gone to Paris, and then to Deep Space Nine, because he couldn’t face the concept of settling down, Amsha knew it was for the very same reasons: curiosity, ambition, passion.  
  
She’d never been very good at mediating between the two, although it wasn’t for lack of trying; but almost every time she’d tried to come between them and tried to calm things down, things had turned even worse. Because on top of all their other similarities, they were also both rather hotheaded, and if she’d learnt one thing in this family, it was that you couldn’t discuss calmly with hotheads until they’d had their say (or, in quite a few cases, their shout).  
  
Amsha had therefore been sure, ever since Julian had told them about his relationship with Garak, that another big father-son confrontation was on the horizon.  
  
“Julian,” Richard said two nights after the announcement as they sat enjoying some raki, and Amsha knew by the tone of his voice and the way Julian looked at him that this was it. “Are you sure about this?”  
  
Julian sighed, put down his glass, and Amsha just thought: _Here we go_. “Sure about what?”  
  
“You know what I mean. This relationship thing. I mean, for one thing, he’s much older than you.”  
  
Amsha, seeing Julian’s rising temper reflected in his eyes, briefly thought about intervening, but it was no good. Also, she had to admit to herself that she was just as worried as Richard, and would therefore very much like to hear what Julian had to say.  
  
“Go on then,” said Julian, leaning back and folding his arms. “What else?”  
  
Richard frowned, and Amsha knew it angered Julian even more to see the look on his face that he’d always worn whenever he thought his son was being a self-centered, stubborn little boy.  
  
“All right,” Richard said. He’d never been able to resist rising to a bait. “He is much older than you, you can’t deny that. He’s from a completely different culture, and I’m not saying that’s a problem for us, I’m just saying you don’t know these people as well as you do humans – and also, he has a really nebulous past –”  
  
“Oh for God’s sake, dad,” Julian exploded, “you’re just repeating what you’ve read in the papers!”  
  
“And what if I am? Don’t you find it odd that a man who worked as a tailor all his life suddenly rises to power as the minister of the interim government, and then later becomes foreign secretary _and_ ambassador to Earth? I’m just saying that’s a bit odd and you should be careful!”  
  
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” said Julian, shooting from his seat and striding around the room. “So what else? Go on, say it: It’s weird that he’s a man.”  
  
Amsha tried to interject, but her husband was faster, as usual.  
  
“I never said that,” he replied, holding his hands up defensively, “and I wasn’t going to. It’s not as though that’s an issue these days.”  
  
“Oh please, father. Not an issue? You have heard about all the ‘curing the homosexual mutation’ movements, haven’t you? Gruner’s thesis came out only ten years ago. LGBT people have the same rights these days, yes, but it’s not as though finding out where it comes from has stopped people trying to change it!”  
  
“I don’t need a lecture from you, _Doctor_ ,” grumbled Richard. “But you’re just as stubborn as you’ve always been. Looks like you want to believe that I’m a homophobic racist. Fine. Use me as a punching bag, as long as you don’t talk to the press like that.” And he marched off into his and Amsha’s room. Amsha knew he would have slammed the door if it had been possible.  
  
“Julian,” she rounded on him, “that was unfair.”  
  
“Unfair?” Julian protested, but he had never been able to work up the same kind of ire when confronted with her. He gazed at her for a while, then hung his head. “Maybe. I’m sorry, mum. I’m just really stressed. And it’s really hard feeling like everyone’s against us.”  
  
“Well, we’re not,” she said, approaching him and gripping his arms. “We’re always for you, sweetheart. You must remember that. And please don’t forget that your dad has also been a target ever since this business came out, what with the journalists digging up everything they could find about the genetic enhancements. One of them got into HQ tonight and ambushed us at dinner, you know.”  
  
“What?” Julian looked flabberghasted, and as she was pleased to note, already slightly ashamed of himself. “Why didn’t you say earlier? We’ve been sitting together for an hour at least.”  
  
She shrugged. “I guess we were still getting over it ourselves.”  
  
“So what happened?”  
  
How best to describe what happened? she thought. It had been an unnerving and slightly alarming experience, the journalist shoving his recording PADD right into their faces and asking all sorts of very private questions. However, here was where having a hothead for a husband came in handy.  
  
“Let’s just say your dad gave him a piece of his mind,” she smiled.  
  
“Oh, he’s good at _that_.”  
  
“Don’t be harsh, Jules. You would have reacted the same way if you’d heard the man’s questions. But I suppose we could check the press channels to see if they’re talking about it. The man got thrown out and they confiscated his equipment, but I think he’d been recording live, anyway.”  
  
Julian, still shaking his head in wonder, turned on their main news screen. It was being talked about all right – on all channels.  
  
 _“I’m sorry, sir, but you’re being an idiot,”_ Richard was saying. _“Suggesting that my son’s genetic enhancements affected his emotional judgment and therefore made him choose the wrong partner is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. I think you should probably do some research before you break into HQ and start harassing people who are just trying to continue leading their lives.”_  
  
Here the journalist tried to say something, but Richard interjected, _“And if you come anywhere near my son, I will personally break your nose. He’s having a hard enough time as it is dealing with you lot, so watch out.”_  
  
 _“Any comments, Mrs Bashir?”_ said the journalist, who seemed used to threats.  
  
Amsha watched herself and her husband: she hadn’t even noticed, in the heat of the moment, how he’d tried to protect her from having to engage with the journalist, and she felt a surge of affection, tinged with slight irritation.  
  
 _“Do you have children?”_ she saw and heard herself asking.  
  
The journalist answered in the negative, and she said, _“Then I will pray for you that you may one day find a more meaningful life and have a child you love as much as we love our son.”_  
  
The recording ended, leaving the presenter to comment on it, which Julian turned off quickly. Amsha turned to her son and saw that he had tears in his eyes. Sitting down next to him, she hugged him tightly.  
  
“So you see, you’re not alone in this,” she murmured into his shoulder. “You and your father have this tendency to always want to bear everything by yourselves. I’m just telling you you don’t have to.”  
  
Julian held her tightly, and she could feel him nodding. “Thanks, mum.”  
  
Amsha wondered briefly if now was the right moment to ask him a few of her own questions about Garak, but in the end decided against it.  
  
When she went to bed that night, and Richard had fallen asleep, she lay awake for a long time.  
  
She’d been interested in this particular friend of Julian’s for a while. Julian had mentioned him on and off in their communications during the past year; it had been clear that the man was very important to him, but Julian had always been very guarded in his comments. Amsha had thought that was because Garak was a politician and Julian wasn’t supposed to talk about him too much, but at times she hadn’t been so sure.  
  
This was why it had been clear to her, when Julian told them he was going out with a Cardassian, that it was Garak. Something in her mind had just clicked, which she supposed meant that part of her had already known. How was it, then, that it was still a bit of a shock?  
  
She really hoped her son knew what he was doing. But then, she thought just before she drifted off to sleep, that was almost exactly what her father had said when she’d started going out with Richard.  
  
***


	5. Jake

**5 - Jake**

  
_In other news: Ambassador Garak! Well, well. Dedicated readers of SolarFlair will have seen my previous comments about Cardassian clothing and Mr Garak’s unique and, in my view, very stylish version of that. Well, it looks like I’m not the only one who’s attracted to him._  
 _You might remember my article about the Alpha Quadrant summit on Deep Space Nine last autumn. If not – well, first of all, go here for some of my most astute observations about intercultural dress codes. Second of all, I’m sure you do remember the articles in the so-called serious news (yawn!) about the Bajoran terrorist attack on the Cardassian delegation. Ring a bell? There you go. Well, as has been reported, it was none other than Doctor Julian Bashir who saved the ambassador’s life, as can be seen in this video._  
 _Cute. We should have seen it back then, dear readers, but we didn’t. And why? (Prepare yourselves for one of my more outlandish theories.) **Because Julian Bashir doesn’t dress well off-duty.** If he did, our subconscious minds, or at least mine, might have made the connection. But someone with similar gaffes (go on, watch the video again and Look At That Shirt) couldn’t possibly go out with someone as stylistically on-the-mark as Mr Garak, could he?_  
 _Well, it appears that he could. Perhaps the Cardassian ambassador is a little more tolerant than me when it comes to fashion. One thing’s for sure, though: Doctor Bashir’s Cardassian doctor’s uniforms are very well-tailored indeed…_  
  
***  
  
Jake closed the article he’d been reading and shook his head, smiling a little. The editor of _SolarFlair_ had a very unique style which he usually enjoyed, even when the subject matter didn’t interest him much: he’d prefer a cooking magazine over a fashion one any day, but the writing in those was pragmatic on the best of days and boring on the worst.  
  
Still, this time, _SolarFlair_ ’s editorial was a little hard to enjoy, knowing that at least one of the two people concerned was – well, maybe not a friend of his, but definitely a friend of his father’s.  
  
There it was again, that point where he had to make himself stop thinking.  
  
Jake blinked and looked out the window. They were just passing Atlanta, if he wasn’t mistaken – yes, now he could see the Great Smoky Mountains. He was on a slow shuttle that took almost half an hour from New Orleans to New York City, and he enjoyed it that way. It was pretty much impossible to see anything on regular shuttles, which was a pity because the natural parks on the east coast were stunning.  
  
Half an hour went by very quickly, and Jake’s mind was still full of the Great East Coast Wildlife Reserve when the captain announced their arrival. Still in a daze, he made his way to the shuttle that would take him to the Mark Twain Society’s head quarters, and only realized whom he’d sat down next to when it was too late.  
  
“Well, if it isn’t Jake Sisko, son of the Emissary!” announced Wilhelmina Thompson, loud enough for the whole shuttle to hear. Great. The head gossip columnist of _Stars and Supernovas_ ’ New York program.  
  
“Hello, Wilhelmina,” he said, deciding on gut instinct that attack was the best form of defence. “What are _you_ doing at a writing class? Surely that’s not the most essential skill needed for a gossip column.”  
  
She laughed her fake laugh. He’d despised this woman from the very first day she’d started to hassle him and Kasidy. Back then, he’d tried not to get on the wrong side of her, because she was well-known and had a lot of influence, and back then he’d still been interested in working as a journalist. Now, he didn’t much care what she said or wrote about him.  
  
“I see you haven’t lost your spirit, Jake,” she said. “Good. That’s very good. Any news from your dad?” And she actually stuck a microphone right under his nose.  
  
Jake turned half away from her, not answering.  
  
“Oh, and I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she continued, making it sound as though they saw each other regularly. “Any comments on the Garak/Bashir situation?”  
  
“Yes,” Jake said, leaning down right into the mic. “Stay the fuck out of their lives.”  
  
Thompson giggled, waggling her eyebrows in a scandalized fashion, and Jake sighed inwardly. Kasidy and Grandpa were going to tell him off for that. But it had been worth it.  
  
They’d finally arrived at the Mark Twain Society, and Jake got off the shuttle as quickly as he could. Wilhelmina Thompson, as it turned out, was not part of the writing class, but was meeting a brunette woman Jake didn’t know. He tried not to look as they whispered and pointed at him, and went straight past them into the lobby.  
  
***  
  
After a thoroughly fascinating day at the Society, Jake had completely forgotten about his morning encounter. There had been so much new input that his mind was filled to the brim with new ideas, and he whistled to himself as he walked towards the shuttle that would take him to his hotel.  
  
Unfortunately, some people didn’t like to be forgotten so easily.  
  
“Jake!” he heard Wilhelmina Thompson’s voice behind him. Sighing, he turned around.  
  
“What is it now?”  
  
“Look,” she gasped, out of breath from running up to him. “I wanted to say sorry about earlier. I know you’ve had your fair share of trouble from us journalists about your dad, and you probably just want to be left alone.”  
  
Jake raised his eyebrows. “That’s probably the most truthful thing I’ve ever heard you say.”  
  
She gripped his arm, a little too tightly, and nodded. “You’re not going to get any more trouble from me.” And she was gone.  
  
Jake stepped into the shuttle, frowning. Certainly his most bizarre encounter with that woman, and that was saying something. He absently rubbed his arm where she had gripped it, then shook his head. Time to think about something else.  
  
It was too late in the evening to call Kasidy, he realized, dismayed. She usually went to sleep right after putting Isabella to bed, as she would then keep her up all night. “A very temperamental baby, that one,” Grandpa had once said in his usual cheerful manner, “just like her dad and her brother.”  
  
***  
  
Jake was so exhausted from the day’s events that he decided to have dinner in the hotel restaurant instead of exploring New York’s famed cuisine outside (although Grandpa would kill him for not trying out that seafood restaurant down in 9th ave). He had just found a nice removed spot in the back of the restaurant when he spotted one of the people he had least expected to find here.  
  
“Isn’t that the Cardassian Ambassador?” the woman three tables away from him said rather loudly to her friend, and Jake saw a lot of other people craning their necks to try and get a look. Garak, for his part, seemed to be looking for someone who wasn’t there.  
  
Jake was just trying to make up his mind whether or not to hail him when Garak spotted him and came over. His manner was strangely hostile.  
  
“Did she send you to meet me, then?” he asked.  
  
Jake paused midway through rising to greet Garak. “I’m sorry?” He blinked. “Nobody sent me. I didn’t even realize you were in New York.”  
  
Garak stared at him for a moment. Then his manner changed, abruptly, into the effusive and slightly unnerving friendliness that Jake had come to know on DS9. “I do apologize,” he said. They shook hands and sat down, Garak with his eye on the door and Jake with his eye on Garak. If he was honest with himself, the other man’s volatility had always scared him a little.  
  
“I must have misunderstood the situation,” Garak explained. “I was meeting a journalist here and I thought she might have contacted you. Wasn’t journalism a hobby of yours once?”  
  
Jake scowled. “Yeah, but not since I got back to Earth and got my own taste of being on the receiving end of it.”  
  
Garak nodded, slowly. “Of course. I should have realized. So what brings you to New York? The last I heard you and Mrs Yates-Sisko had moved to New Orleans.”  
  
Of course he’d heard, thought Jake. Garak had always seemed to know things like that. “Writing class,” he replied, then frowned. “Where, by the way, I ran into the very same woman who wouldn’t stop harassing Kasidy and me last year.”  
  
That got him Garak’s full attention, who looked at him out of narrowed eyes. His tone was casual, however, when he asked, “Really? Who was that?”  
  
“Wilhelmina Thompson. She runs the gossip column on _Stars and Supernovas_ ’ New York program,” Jake shrugged. “She, uh, asked about you, too. But all I told her was to leave you alone.”  
  
Garak nodded slowly, seemingly lost in thoughts.  
  
“Look, Garak,” Jake said. “I hope you don’t put too much store into what the press may or may not write about you. People try to make up for there being no war to report on, so they dig up all sorts of things and turn a small thing into something huge.”  
  
Garak smiled. “You’re not wrong.”  
  
“You’d think it would be a nice thing to report on, two people being together,” Jake continued, trying not to worry about being too forward, wanting to show his support. “Instead they turn it into a scandal.”  
  
“You believe it’s true then, about our relationship?” asked Garak, a small smile playing around his lips.  
  
Oops. There was no way of not putting his foot in his mouth, it seemed. “Well, I… I just assumed it was true. Isn’t it?”  
  
Garak shrugged enigmatically. “Not everything you hear on the news is true. I’m just saying it’s interesting that you wouldn’t have any doubts about it. Julian Bashir and Kelden Garak – a bit of an odd couple, don’t you think?”  
  
“Well… I guess we buy into the facts they sell us a little too quickly,” Jake conceded, a little puzzled.  
  
Garak smiled again. “Well, I’m not going to keep you from your dinner any longer. It was good to see you again. Say hello to your family.”  
  
“And you to Doctor Bashir,” Jake ventured, to which Garak didn’t react at all.  
  
They said goodbye, and Jake was left to his own puzzlement.  
  
***


	6. Zhuni

**6- Zhuni**  
  
  
_David Grayson, father of Amanda Grayson, the teacher who recently announced her engagement to Vulcan Ambassador Sarek, was wounded yesterday in a fight with an unknown man who entered the Grayson family home in Paterson, New Jersey, at approximately 4am. The man, whom inside sources described as a “tall Human dressed in black”, has been arrested. Nothing is known as of yet concerning his motives._  
_Mr Grayson is currently being treated at New York State Hospital and is reported to be in critical condition._  
_(Terran News Network, ca. 2230)_  
  
***  
  
Doctor Zhuni Palok, who’d thought _her_ week had been eventful until her station captain told her about the news, was very glad when her best friend called her back almost immediately.  
  
“Julian!” she exclaimed when his face appeared on her screen, and she started worrying at once. Her friend had always had the tendency to take too much upon himself – and it didn’t look like he was dealing with it in a very healthy way right now.  
  
“Zhuni,” he responded, smiling at her. “Now before you start fussing over me, I’m slightly ill with a stomach ache I acquired through eating a lot of fresh food last night. I did miss my parents’ cooking, but it’s a bit of a drastic change from the replicated food I’ve mostly eaten for year now.”  
  
“And you didn’t take any gastric relaxants after?” She tutted. “Honestly, you’re like a child sometimes.”  
  
Julian ducked his head. “Looks like I’m not thinking very clearly right now.”  
  
She frowned at that. “How are you holding up, my dear?”  
  
“I’m all right,” he shrugged. “It’s just not very easy being holed up at Starfleet HQ with my parents.”  
  
“Holed up at HQ? It’s that bad?”  
  
“Well, there’s a ton of journalists who don’t seem to get tired of waiting outside, and Security has labelled us ‘high risk’. I’ve been reading up on the relationship between Ambassador Sarek and Amanda Grayson, Ambassador Spock’s parents, you know? Apparently Security is worried that we might have same problems they did.”  
  
“What problems?” Zhuni was familiar with the names, but with none of the details of their history.  
  
“Let’s just say people weren’t very happy with the idea of a high-profile interracial relationship, and there wasn’t just the press, but also demonstrations, protests, Amanda’s father got attacked…”  
  
Zhuni shook her head. “The oh-so-tolerant Humans.”  
  
Her friend smiled wryly. “Exactly.”  
  
“Was he all right? Amanda’s father?”  
  
“He was fine in the end, but he was in hospital for two months. When I think of something like that happening to my parents…”  
  
“Don’t worry, Julian, they’re safe now.” Not for the first time, she wished she could reach out to him. “Anyway, that was what, 200 years ago? Things must have changed, at least a little.”  
  
Julian shrugged, and she knew him well enough to know that he was holding himself back from correcting her guess of 200. “Security tells me they’re still ‘assessing the risks’.” He sighed. “Have you heard from anyone on Cardassia, by the way? Do you know how the news has been received?”  
  
Zhuni thought this was maybe not the best moment to be entirely truthful. Neither her husband nor any of the friends she had talked to had been very positive about it. But then, she thought, a lot of their indignation was undoubtedly due to the pictures that had been published with the article.  
  
“Let’s just say it’s not at all common practice on Cardassia to publish pictures, especially ones so private,” she said, choosing her words carefully. To her surprise, Julian burst out laughing.  
  
“Private? Oh God, and I was so grateful that they weren’t any more private than that! When I think of what my parents and my friends _could_ have seen… I mean, the most intimate thing you can see is us sitting arm in arm on a couch.”  
  
Zhuni shuddered. “Please, don’t remind me.”  
  
Julian laughed again. “Sorry. I didn’t realize that was already offensive on Cardassia. Well, at least that’s not our fault, but the journalist’s. – Anyway, let’s talk about something else for a bit. How are you? How’s DS9?”  
  
“Oh, it’s wonderful!” she exclaimed, momentarily forgetting her worry. “I can’t remember the last time I worked with such good equipment. Quite a lab you built here for yourself, Doctor! I almost feel a little sorry for Doctor Jabara, thinking of the limited resources back in my hospital in Ginala. It’s not as though she’s going to make any ground-breaking discoveries, whereas I, oh, the possibilities…” She made a sweeping motion with her hand, indicating her office in the DS9 sickbay.  
  
Julian smiled. “Oh, who knows – Jabara’s Bajoran perspective, confronted with a close study of Cardassian physiology, not speaking of all the current mutations… she could see things we’ve overlooked.”  
  
“True,” Zhuni nodded, grateful to him for silencing her conscience somewhat.  
  
“How much longer are you there for?”  
  
“Oh, only one more month,” she sighed. “The official program is for three months only, though I guess I could always ask Jabara if she’d like to prolong it.”  
  
“Don’t be disappointed if she says no,” Julian smiled.  
  
“I’ll just have to make the most out of my time here then. By the way, your Captain Kira is quite something. That woman’s got _tavut_.”  
  
Julian asked for an explanation of the last word, and in the end pronounced the Standard equivalent to be ‘spunk’, although with their cultures being so different, it was impossible to find exact translations for colloquial words like that. They smiled at each other: language was really their joint hobby (apart from the hobby of medicine, which they’d turned into a profession), and Zhuni could see how much he enjoyed thinking of something else for a moment.  
  
“You like Kira, then?” he asked. “Good. We need more Cardassian-Bajoran friendships.”  
  
“Well, I’m not sure I can call her a _friend_ yet.”  
  
Julian smiled, and Zhuni knew they were thinking the same thing: how different their respective culture’s concept of friendship was. They’d had a long discussion once, many months ago, when Julian had called her his friend and she’d been very surprised at how easily he seemed to attach himself to people.  
  
“Anyway, I hope you get out of your confinement soon,” she said. “You will forgive me for saying this, but you look terrible.”  
  
Julian smiled wryly. “Thanks. Maybe it won’t be so much longer now. They’ve now started saying on the news that ‘inside sources’, whatever that means, have started raising doubts about the relationship thing even being true. Although where they get their information from, I have no idea. They’ve started calling him ‘Kelden’ now, which isn’t his first name at all.” He shrugged. “Anyway, maybe the media will soon lose interest.”  
  
“Well, good. Tell Garak to pull some strings. I’m sure he – what’s that look?”  
  
While it had almost looked for a moment as though Julian wasn’t very happy to hear his partner’s name, it turned out that his parents had just entered his quarters, and she guessed that he wasn’t quite prepared for the awkwardness of confronting them with yet another Cardassian in his life.  
  
However, there was nothing for it now.  
  
“Introduce me?” she asked before he could sign off, raising her eyeridges meaningfully. She knew he would understand the subtext: ‘don’t forget your manners, now’, and she saw him smiling in return.  
  
He called his parents and introduced everyone. Zhuni, who was always interested in meeting the parents of acquaintances, was especially so now: she’d never had an off-worlder for so close a friend.  
  
Mr and Mrs Bashir appeared very interested in her and asked her a lot of questions. She explained how she’d come to work in Julian’s old job, how it was part of an exchange program put in place by Prime Minister Osharan and First Minister Shakaar, according to which Bajorans and Cardassians from different professions were encouraged to change places for three months.  
  
Apart from that, the Bashirs mainly asked her questions of the sort that tried to subtly find out more about Julian’s life on Cardassia, she noted. Not very surprising, however: it was what parents did.  
  
After exchanging some information and pleasantries, they cut the connection, and Zhuni was left to reflect on all she had heard and seen by herself. She hoped things would calm down soon; Julian was really not looking his best. She wondered how Garak had reacted to it all. Was it possible that he had said something to upset his partner?  
  
Or maybe Julian hadn’t really discussed his worries with Garak, and kept them all to himself. He had become so Cardassian, Zhuni thought with a small smile. While she loved her world and her culture, she regretted that she had not known Julian Bashir before his time on Cardassia: from what she’d heard from Kira, his temperament had been rather more open and unguarded. She didn’t like the thought that perhaps Cardassia had made him more repressed.  
  
***


	7. Garak (II)

**7 - Garak (II)**  
  
  
 _Jake Sisko, who published a critically acclaimed collection of short stories last December (“Under the Jumja Tree”, see edition 336 for our review), was spotted yesterday in New York having dinner with the Cardassian Ambassador to Earth, Kelden Garak. Garak, who, like Sisko, lived on the Federation-Bajoran space station Deep Space Nine until the end of the Dominion war, recently hit the headlines due to his relationship with Human Starfleet Doctor Julian Bashir. Far be it from us to enter into the speculation regarding this matter, but we do (tremulously) look forward to Mr Sisko’s next project, be it literary or journalistic. […]_  
 _(DownToEarth, literary supplement, edition 349)_  
  
***  
  
“Mr Garak!” – “Ambassador!” – “Garak!”  
  
Oh, great.  
  
A fraction of a second after putting on his most agreeable smile, Garak turned around. About fifteen, he guessed quickly as the journalists rushed towards him, their PADDs outstretched, their faces eager.  
  
The four people who reached him first each shouted out a question at almost exactly the same time.  
  
“Ambassador, is there any truth to the rumour that you are in a sexual relationship with Doctor Julian Bashir?”  
  
“Ambassador Garak, are you aware that Federation citizens all around the Alpha Quadrant are calling this the most shocking piece of news since Captain Sisko’s disappearance and is your encounter with his son in any way linked to that?”   
  
“Mr Garak, do you campaign for cross-species breeding and/or adoption?”  
  
“Ambassador, can you explain to our readers how a Cardassian-Human relationship works, both emotionally and physically?”  
  
Garak allowed himself to blink once as he wondered which of the last two questions was the more absurd one. The smile never left his face, however.  
  
“Ladies and gentlemen, I am sorry to say that I have no statement to offer at this moment.” This he repeated at least as many times as there were journalists, while he made his way through the hotel lobby towards the lifts.  
  
Well, that served him right for thinking he might as well get some fresh air, and some breakfast from one of those New York ‘delis’ he’d heard about.  
  
Back in his room, he checked his message board. It looked like Osharan was back from his tour: he’d left him a message asking to be called back. Garak sat down heavily. Now that the conversation was imminent, he was suddenly unsure whether he was so very eager for it.  
  
Ignoring Tain’s voice in his head telling him off for avoiding the essential, he checked his other messages. One was the same he’d received every day now since Monday, and he forwarded it to Lt. Ferris, then deleted it without further ado, making sure the sender would be notified of this.  
  
One was a video text from Jake Sisko, and he opened it with interest.  
  
 _“Hello Garak,”_ said Jake, looking nervous, but determined. _“I hope you’re okay. I just wanted to tell you that I had nothing to do with that new rumour that’s now circulating, you know, about the relationship thing maybe not being true. I know they’re saying that ‘inside sources’ have claimed that, but that’s not me. I hope you believe me. I would never repeat anything of what you said to me yesterday to the press.”_ He scratched his head. _“Uh, let me know if you need any help or anything. Oh, and Kasidy says hi back.”_  
  
Garak leant back in his chair, smiling to himself. He knew Jake hadn’t helped the press, or if anything, he’d done so unwittingly. He had, in fact, helped Garak confirm a suspicion of his, which was very good news; he’d have to go to New Orleans right after talking to Osharan in order for his plan to work out.  
  
He frowned, his thoughts firmly back on his upcoming talk.  
  
Speculating was a vice, of course; only act on proper facts, that was one of the maxims the Obsidian Order had taught him. But sometimes, especially since he had become a soppy, romantic fool, it was hard not to.  
  
It wasn’t as though he was blindly obedient and would do whatever Osharan said (although Julian enjoyed claiming the opposite). But let’s say Osharan asked/ordered him to break up with Julian, and Garak would therefore have to quit the government. Who else was there with his experience to do the job he was doing now? It was no accident that he was now also occupying the post of temporary ambassador to Earth; they simply didn’t have enough good people.  
  
Garak shook his head at himself. Enough. It was facts that mattered, and it was time he found out that essential one he’d been waiting for this past week.  
  
His connection with Cardassia established, he had to wait until Osharan was free. Finally, the Prime Minister’s face appeared on his screen.  
  
“Garak,” he said, giving him a respectful nod not entirely proper for a Cardassian boss-employee relationship; but Garak’s activities during the interim phase still commanded a lot of respect from his compatriots, whatever position they may hold.  
  
“Prime Minister,” he said, reciprocating.  
  
“Well,” Osharan said, getting right to the point as he usually did, “I need hardly tell you that this has put Cardassia in the spotlight we’ve been trying to avoid ever since the war.”  
  
“Yes, sir.” Unseen by Osharan, Garak’s left hand tightened on his leg. “Believe me when I say I would rather this article hadn’t been written.”  
  
Osharan, looking tired and worn out, nodded. “However,” he said after a while, smiling, “what is done is done. I am surely not going to ask you to abandon your excellent Dr Bashir, and I hope he will not be discouraged from coming back to us after this.”  
  
“So do I,” said Garak, trying not to show his dismay. This thought hadn’t even occurred to him. Was it possible that Julian would want to stay on Earth?  
  
“Also,” Osharan added, “I must say it’s a nice change to be contacted by interstellar journalists with questions of a different nature. I was getting immensely tired of just talking about the war.”  
  
Garak had to smile at that. “Perhaps we should see this as a chance for Cardassia to redeem itself through the gossip columns.”  
  
“Absolutely. When we take our place on _Stars and Supernovas’_ Wall of Shame, we’ll know we’ve arrived.” Osharan gave a short laugh, then grew serious again. “You will know what to do. I wish you the best of strength, my friend.”  
  
Garak closed the connection and leant back in his chair. Yes, Osharan was definitely the better boss of the two he’d had in his life. Not that being more relaxed than Tain (who, let’s face it, would probably have had Julian killed) was a big achievement, but Garak thought himself really rather lucky; not many would have reacted like this.  
  
He would call Julian to let him know where he was going and then go straight to New Orleans. There wasn’t any time to lose.  
  
***


	8. Julian (II)

**8 - Julian (II)**  
  
  
 _So the guy who broke into the Graysons’ family home wanted to somehow make sure – never mind how he was planning on doing that – that Miss Grayson and Ambassador Sarek would produce no mixed-race Human-Vulcan children._  
 _Look, it’s simple. Humans have red blood, Vulcans have green blood. Red and green mixed together is brown. Now, if we start complaining about the possibility of mixed-race brown kids, we might as well jump into a time warp into the mid-20th century. I don’t know about you, but I have a dream – that Martin Luther King’s ‘one day’ is our today._  
 _(Erika Miller’s blog, ca 2230)_  
  
***  
  
“Julian,” his mother hailed him as he came back from his morning walk through the upstairs garden. She looked strange, he thought: a mixture of worried and excited.  
  
“Is something wrong, mum?”  
  
“Garak called,” she said. “When I told him you were out, he said he’d leave you a message.” And she indicated an encrypted message saved on their local board.  
  
Julian mentally kicked himself. He’d been waiting to hear from Garak for two days, and now he’d been out when he called. All the same, he thought irritably, Garak couldn’t expect him to just hang around waiting for a sign from him. “What did he say to you?”  
  
Amsha shrugged, but she smiled a little, and Julian knew that Garak had made good use of his charm. “He was very nice. When I told him you were out, he asked how we were holding up and said he was looking forward to meeting us soon. And we chatted a little about you as a boy.”  
  
“Oh, naturally.” Julian rolled his eyes. Garak had always been good at manipulation.  
  
“Julian… is something wrong?”  
  
Walking over to the window, he stared outside. How to explain to his mother that the big revelation he’d shocked them with just a few days ago was perhaps not so much up to date anymore?  
  
“Anyway,” Amsha said, when he didn’t reply, “he said it was urgent.” She briefly touched his arm as she passed him, and installed herself on the sofa with her book, her back turned to the console.  
  
Julian, almost unwillingly, walked to the console and started decrypting the message. He wondered why Garak was wasting so much time dutifully encrypting every single message. Was someone really going to hack into their private message boards?  
  
Well, maybe they were at that.  
  
 _‘Julian,’_ the message read, _‘I’m leaving New York this instant for New Orleans. I’m hot on the trail of a journalist who could do us, and Cardassia, considerable harm. Could you help me by analyzing the attached,’_ a file which looked like a circuit diagram appeared on his screen, _‘find out where and when exactly it was manufactured? You’ll be much faster than me. Please send your reply to Lt. Ferris of Security as quick as you can. I’m attaching the encryption code I’ve agreed on with him. Other than that, please stay where you are – I have reason to believe you and your family would be in danger if you left HQ.’_  
  
Julian sat down. He wasn’t sure whether to be even more worried or even more annoyed. In the end, he opted for a mixture of the two.  
  
What was Garak doing, turning this whole thing into a case of international espionage? And worst of all – how the fuck was he being treated like a damsel in distress? All right, a damsel with significant decoding powers, but still.  
  
His mother, who must have heard his change in breathing, came over. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, standing behind him and massaging his shoulders.  
  
“I don’t know that that would change anything.”  
  
He heard her chuckle. “A reply worthy of a Bashir.”  
  
He hesitated, then thought, _what the hell._ “The thing is… well, he’s talking to me now and keeping me informed, which is good news. But at the same time he’s treating me like – I don’t know, like a weakling who’d better stay out of harm’s way while he gets to do all the hunting down of journalists.”  
  
He was aware that he was babbling, but to her credit, his mother didn’t ask about the details. After a moment’s silence, she said, “Sounds like you should go find him and tell him that.”  
  
Julian turned around. “Do you think? He seemed to imply it might be dangerous for me to leave HQ.”  
  
His mother shrugged. “I just get the feeling it might be dangerous for your relationship if you don’t.”  
  
He got up. “You’re right. But, mum – will you promise me to stay here with dad? Garak said we were possibly all in danger if we left HQ.”  
  
She hugged him. “I promise. And you promise me to be careful.”  
  
He did, and after packing up a few things and transferring the file Garak had asked him to analyze to his PADD, left for Security to announce his departure.  
  
***  
  
He decoded the file on the shuttle to New Orleans. Its structure and origin were easy to find out, but if anything, it left him even more puzzled than before. Why had Garak sent him a circuit diagram of a recording device from Kesprytt?  
  
His job done and his analysis sent off to Lt. Ferris, he looked up to see that they would be in New Orleans in a couple of minutes. He turned his attention back to his PADD, which he had programmed to scan the city. He knew that Garak, who seemed to be in full secret agent mode, would probably not have left any traces on public transport, so he was searching for a Cardassian life sign instead (tapping into the nearest satellite without leaving a trace, which wasn’t very hard for him although he did find that he was enjoying the challenge).  
  
There he was – and Julian was surprised to recognize the address. Garak was at the Siskos’ place. What the bloody hell was he doing there?  
  
Boarding an urban transport to take him there, he tried to ignore some of the looks he got. He noted, however, that one man had also been on the shuttle from LA, and he gave him a pointed stare, just in case the man was following him and had thought himself undetected.  
  
A few yards from the station, Julian found himself in front of Sisko’s, that restaurant he’d heard so much about and had never been to. Captain Sisko’s father was outside, talking to some customers, when one of them pointed him out and he looked up.  
  
“Doctor Bashir!” he called out, looking very pleased, while Julian wished he’d been a little more quiet about it. “How nice to see you here! It’s always good to meet friends of Ben’s. I’m Joseph. Are you here for lunch?”  
  
“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Julian, shaking his hand. “I’m afraid I’m not here to eat, I was just –”  
  
At that moment, he happened to look up and see Garak staring at him out of a first-floor window.  
  
“I’m here to see Kasidy and the baby,” he improvised.  
  
“Oh, how nice of you!” Mr Sisko exclaimed, and Julian couldn’t help but feel attached to him, so charming and friendly after all he must have been through. “She’s upstairs. I’ll show you!” He went on ahead and Julian followed, after casting a cursory glance behind him to make sure the man from the transport, or someone else, didn’t follow him.  
  
“She’s right through here,” said Mr Sisko, beckoning. “I’ll leave you to it, I have to get back to the restaurant. And do come down and try the lobster if you’re hungry, it’s exquisit today.”  
  
“Thank you.” He didn’t, however, knock at the door Mr Sisko had indicated, but went down the corridor to the door Garak must be in according to his calculations.  
  
Almost immediately, the door opened, and his partner stood in front of him. “What are you doing here?” he asked without preamble.  
  
Julian glared at him, now even more annoyed than before. “Forgotten your manners, have you? How very un-Cardassian.”  
  
“I tend to when the people I care about are in danger,” Garak said in a clipped voice, then stepped aside. Julian walked into the room, and to his surprise, found that someone else was there with Garak.  
  
“Jake!” he exclaimed, and they embraced a little longer than normal, Julian knowing that he was still unable to express all the things he would have liked to say to Jake one year ago.  
  
Finally, he turned to Garak again. “Be so good and explain to me what the hell is going on,” he said, folding his arms.  
  
Garak sighed, closing his eyes briefly. Then he took Julian’s hand and pulled him into the corridor, asking Jake to excuse them for a moment.  
  
“Will you trust me just a little while longer and help me with something? I have to send a very particular piece of evidence to Lt. Ferris within the hour, and I’m having trouble finding it. After that, I promise I’ll explain everything.”  
  
Julian frowned. He could see that Garak was very serious about this, which meant that something important was going on. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to give in yet. “Why within the hour?”  
  
“Because I’m trying to get the journalist who published that article about us arrested, and she’s leaving Earth in –” he checked the clock behind him, “about forty-five minutes. I won’t go into your ridiculous Freedom of the Press laws, but it gets really complicated to get to her as soon as she’s left the planet.”  
  
Julian thought he was beginning to see where this was going. “The circuit diagram I analyzed was a recording device she was using?”  
  
“Quite,” Garak nodded. “A device manufactured on Kesprytt - my assumption was right, wasn't it? - the use of which is illegal on Earth, but not on all of the Federation’s planets. Now, I’ve been trying to find the last piece of the puzzle with the help of Jake, but so far no luck.”  
  
“Why Jake?”  
  
“We met in New York yesterday. Circumstances of a certain nature led me to believe that Jake was carrying a recording device without his knowledge, planted on him by one of that journalist’s associates, so I tested my theory by, ah, planting some bits of information on Jake for my part.”  
  
Julian stared at Garak. “Let me guess. The fake first name and some doubts about whether we were actually together?”  
  
Garak smiled, evidently pleased by his quickness of thought. “As accurate as ever.”  
  
“And you didn’t consider the fact that this might make _me_ doubt you still wanted to be together?” he said in a low voice, knowing Garak would rather die than have Jake overhear something similar.  
  
Garak stared at him. “What?”  
  
Julian looked back at him evenly, but couldn’t hold his gaze for long without relenting. Garak was looking so clearly surprised, a great part of Julian’s anger at him was already beginning to dissipate. Now that he was looking at his partner more closely, it was becoming clear to him that he was barely keeping it together.  
  
“Never mind, we’ll talk about it later. So you proved your theory right, but you haven’t been able to find the device.”  
  
“That’s right.”  
  
Julian nodded, and without any further ado, took out his medical tricorder (life in a post-war zone had left him with the habit of carrying his medical kit everywhere) and reentered the room. If Garak and Jake had searched everywhere, the device was probably not external; and even if Garak had scanned Jake, it was possible he had overlooked something.  
  
“Do you eat a lot of meat, Jake?” Julian inquired, scanning him, trying to sound casual.  
  
Jake stared at him, obviously wondering whether he was losing his mind. “Uh… no. I mainly eat vegetarian. I sometimes have a bit of seafood ‘cause my grandfather’s cooking is really good. Why?”  
  
“What about other proteins? Eggs? Cheese?”  
  
“Not a lot.”  
  
Julian nodded slowly, recalibrated his tricorder and scanned him again. There it was. A strong protein trace, combined with raised iron and low glucose levels. “I’ve heard of this device,” he said, excited about actually finding it in real life. “100% organic, draws power from the host’s glucose reserves and breaks down into protein and iron after shutting itself off, and if I’m correct – yes, this is the exact composition that I read about. I’ll save the scan so we can send it to Ferris. Or we could ask someone from HQ to beam over. We can’t beam Jake over there because the automatic health program would reset his protein and iron levels to normal. Do you think my scan will be enough?”  
  
He looked up at Garak. His partner was gazing at him intently, evidently impressed, and – there was no other word for it – aroused.  
  
“There’s a time and a place, Elim,” Julian said in Kardasi, smiling a little.  
  
“Right,” Garak said, evidently pulling himself out of his daydreams. “Jake, did Wilhelmina Thompson touch you at all?”  
  
“Uh… yes, actually. I’d forgotten about that. She gripped my arm when she apologized for hassling me and Kasidy.”  
  
“Ah,” Garak merely said, almost sounding reproachful that Jake hadn’t mentioned this before.  
  
“Don’t worry about it, Jake,” Julian said. “You couldn’t possibly know that she was planning on setting up a meeting between you and Garak.”  
  
“Is – what was the other journalist’s name?”  
  
“Helen Porter,” Garak said. To Julian, it sounded like he was saying the name of one of his worst enemies.  
  
“Is Helen Porter a tall brunette?”  
  
Garak nodded, and Jake shook his head at himself. “I saw her outside the Society yesterday, she was talking to Wilhelmina. They did look as though they were planning something…”  
  
“Jake, don’t worry yourself,” Garak said, back to his most pleasant demeanour. “If you hadn’t played along with them unwittingly, we would never have got this particular piece of evidence of their illegal measures. Excellent. I think your scan will be proof enough, Doctor. Can you transfer it to my PADD? I can send it to Lt. Ferris right away. Here’s hoping it will be grounds enough for an arrest.”  
  
The scan sent, Julian could see some of the tension leaving Garak’s body, and he felt the headache he hadn’t realized he’d had for two days dissipating as well.  
  
As they walked back down the corridor and Garak placed his hand on the small of Julian’s back, Julian found himself thinking that the best thing about arguing with your partner had to be the makeup sex.  
  
***


	9. The interview

**9 – The interview**  
  
  
 **Sisko: Well, Ambassador, Doctor – thanks for agreeing to do this interview with me.**  
Bashir: Not at all.  
Garak: The pleasure is all ours.  
 **Sisko: Why do I detect a bit of sarcasm?**  
Bashir: _(laughs)_ Cardassians don’t talk about their private life. At all.  
Garak: However, we thought that since the proverbial cat was out of the proverbial bag, we might as well set some things straight. And you’re the only one we could even imagine doing this with.  
 **Sisko: Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. So, I thought since I’m not really a journalist, we could do this more like a normal conversation where we don’t pretend I don’t know some things, and I ask you the questions that really interest me.**  
Bashir: That sounds good.  
Garak: We reserve the right not to reply, of course.  
 **Sisko: _(smiles)_ Of course. So… I guess the first question is: Is it true that you two are in a relationship?**  
Garak and Bashir: _(exchange a glance and a smile)_ Yes.  
 **Sisko: How long’s that been going on, then? I mean, we all knew each other back on Deep Space Nine…**  
Bashir: We were just friends then.  
 **Sisko: So it’s pretty recent?**  
Bashir: Well, it started a little while after I moved to Cardassia.  
Garak: And even then, it took you about four months to contact me.  
Bashir: Well, I had to learn the language first.  
Garak: That’s true. _(they smile at each other again)_  
 **Sisko: What about people’s reactions, then? We’ve seen some truly scary things lately, if you ask me. I mean, people are always claiming that the human race has never been as tolerant as it is in our day, but I think we still have a long way to go. What reactions are you expecting from Cardassia, Garak?**  
Garak: _(smiles a little tensely)_ My my, for someone who’s not a journalist, you do get right to the point, don’t you? – The answer is, I don’t know. I hope my compatriots will see Doctor Bashir for who he is: a compassionate person who for the past year has been putting his skills and his manpower into the reconstruction of Cardassia. If they can accept that one of their leaders is attached to that kind of person, then I think we’re on the right track.  
 **Sisko: One thing’s for sure: You’ve definitely learned how to make speeches.**  
 _(Bashir laughs, while Garak only raises one eyeridge)_  
Bashir: Well, I’m not nearly as good at that as he is, but I will add that I love Cardassia and hope it will have me back.  
 **Sisko: No chance of convincing you two to stay here, then? I’m sure Starfleet would appreciate your skills and your manpower just as much. What’s your official status now, anyway, Doctor?**  
Bashir: Don’t give them ideas, Jake. I’m on permanent leave from my duties as a Starfleet officer and very happily employed at the Cardassian Medical Research Faculty. I could really not deal with any kind of diplomatic office.  
Garak: Although you’d be good at it.  I don’t know any other non-Cardassian who knows us so well.  
Bashir: Oh, don’t you start as well.  
 **Sisko: Do you want to talk about the journalists who have just been arrested?**  
Garak: With pleasure, and I do mean that sincerely this time.  
 **Sisko: _(laughs)_ I’m not sure everyone knows that it was you who got Helen Porter arrested.**  
Garak: Well, it was a joint effort, really. But I suppose I was the one who first got on to her track. I just couldn’t fathom how she had gotten hold of so much information and _(wrinkles his nose)_ of those pictures.  
Bashir: _(smiles as Sisko looks bemused)_ They’re not shocking to us but way too intimate for Cardassian eyes.  
 **Sisko: So you found out she was using illegal equipment and accessing transmissions and logs through illegal means.**  
Garak: And had been for quite some time, it appears.  
Bashir: What about the other one that’s been arrested then, Jake?  
 **Sisko: An unfortunate side effect. – Nah, you do sarcasm way better than me, Garak.**  
 _(Garak and Bashir laugh)_  
Bashir: She’s an old friend of yours, isn’t she?  
 **Sisko: So she wishes. You know, I wouldn’t be so vindictive if she hadn’t injected me with that biological listening device. I don’t know, it makes you feel…**  
Bashir: Violated? Because that’s what she did to your basic human rights.  
 **Sisko: So anyway, you managed to assemble enough proof of their illegal activities by planting false information, didn’t you, Garak?**  
Garak: Yes, like the fact that my first name is ‘Kelden’. It’s not, by the way.  
 **Sisko: What is it? I don’t think I ever knew on DS9.**  
Bashir: _(after a moment’s silence)_ This is the moment where things become too private for Cardassians, Jake.  
 **Sisko: A first name is too private?**  
Bashir: Yup. Which is why you’re going to be stuck with ‘Kelden’, Ambassador.  
Garak: I can live with that. By the way, the Federation should really consider taking a page from our book. You take the freedom of the press much too far over here.  
Bashir: You just had to drop that in somewhere, didn’t you?  
Garak: Always worth a try.  
 **Sisko: It’s worrying, though, that every single journalist would just take up the idea that that was your name and run with it. Doesn’t anybody check their facts?**  
Bashir: From your lips to the media’s ears, Jake.  
 **Sisko: So what are your plans now? How much longer are you going to stay on Earth?**  
Bashir: A few weeks at most.  
Garak: There’s the inauguration of the Cardassian embassy next Tuesday, to which everyone who’s watching is invited, by the way – next Tuesday at 1500 hours, on Dorothy Parker square in Sausalito. And then a few more things to take care of before we leave.  
 **Sisko: Well, before you leave, you have to come eat – at Sisko’s!**  
Bashir: That’s a good ending.  
 **Sisko: Yeah, I thought nothing like a bit of advertising to conclude.**  
  
***  
  
 **Amsha &Richard**  
  
Richard turned off the screen and looked at his wife, sitting next to him on the sofa. She was smiling, and he was surprised to find that he was, too.  
  
“Jules looks happy,” he said.  
  
“He does, doesn’t he?” she exclaimed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that particular smile on him.”  
  
“Still feels odd, to see him with someone like that,” Richard admitted. He would never say the like to anyone else, and he knew Amsha would understand how he meant it. “Still, I guess there’s nothing for it now. And this Garak looks like an interesting man. Do you think we should maybe invite him to dinner before they leave?”  
  
“I was just about to suggest the same thing.” Amsha cuddled up to him. “And I guess we could start planning a holiday to Cardassia.”  
  
“If they’ll have us.”  
  
“From what Jules told me, nothing’s more important than family to Cardassians, except maybe the State. So I think we’d probably be welcome.”  
  
***  
  
 **Miles**  
  
“Daddy, what does it mean, in a re-la-tion-ship?”  
  
Miles looked over to where Kirayoshi was sitting. He hadn’t even realized his son had been watching the interview; normally, he was in a completely different world whenever he was drawing.  
  
“It means they love each other,” he explained, coming to sit beside him on the floor. “Just like Mum and Dad.”  
  
“Just like Yoshi loves Molly!” he exclaimed, running over to where his sister was sitting at the table, reading her book.  
  
Molly smiled, patting his head as he hugged her legs. “No, Yoshi, that’s different. We’re brother and sister.” When Kirayoshi looked up at her in wonder, she shrugged. “I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.”  
  
Miles laughed and told Keiko, who’d just come in back from work, about the context of their conversation. They both laughed heartily at Molly’s comment, while Molly just looked at them as if to say ‘What are the adults giggling about now?’  
  
“So I missed the big interview!” Keiko exclaimed, sitting down on the couch. “Was it good?”  
  
“Yeah, I thought so. It helped that Jake was there to ask the questions. Gave it more of a family feel.” Miles smiled. “Anyway, I might be wrong, but there will probably be a few repeats in the next few days, so I’m sure you’ll get to see it. Hey, we should go down to the inauguration of the Cardassian embassy next Tuesday afternoon. Can you get time off work?” He wasn’t teaching Tuesdays, so it wasn’t a problem for him.  
  
“That’s a good idea. I’ll ask.” Keiko got up and started tidying, picking up a toy alien here,  a miniature starship there. “So how does it feel for you?” she asked Miles over her shoulder.  
  
Miles looked up from Molly’s homework and shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m glad he’s happy, that’s for sure. And Garak seems serious about him, which is good.”  
  
“Maybe you should try to get to know Garak a little better,” she suggested. “He must have changed ever since we were on DS9.” Then she grinned wickedly. “Although in the end, from your point of view, no one’s ever going to be good enough for Julian.”  
  
He checked that the kids weren’t looking, then stuck his tongue out at her.  
  
***  
  
 **Zhuni**  
  
Zhuni closed the news channel and shook her head, though partly at herself. She couldn’t help feeling a little scandalized by the whole thing: a public interview, discussing such private things! But she knew that that was what the Federation media had needed to bring the whole thing to a close. She just hoped the people back on Cardassia would understand that, too, and not think that their foreign secretary had become too “Human”.  
  
It helped, though, that the person who had interviewed them had voiced so much criticism of the Federation news media, and had overall been quite restrained in his questions. That young man was interesting. The presenter had announced him as a writer; perhaps she would check out one of his books.  
  
Oh well, she thought, getting up and stretching, even if the Cardassian public did end up resenting Garak for this, it wasn’t all bad news. From what Julian had told her, Garak wasn’t wild about holding a public office and just did it because the State needed him at this point. If it turned out that he would have to step down, maybe he and Julian could finally have a more quiet life together.  
  
She whistled to herself as she composed a message to Julian. She assumed he was now again relaxed enough to take her teasing, so she wrote a few words admonishing him for being so forward.  
  
***  
  
 **Julian &Elim**  
  
Julian had been right: coming together after not seeing each other for a week, combined with the release of the stress they’d both been under, had made for a rather spectacular night.  
  
He’d managed to get his wits together only for a moment to send a message to his mother, telling her that he’d arrived safely back at HQ and would “probably be spending the evening with Garak”. That (and a trip to Security to brief Lt. Ferris and hear from him that the Police had, on his information, taken Helen Porter and Wilhelmina Thompson into custody) had been the only distraction they’d allowed for.  
  
The next morning was busy again, with Garak (although not having slept much) having to brief Osharan about the Porter affair and see to several urgent calls from journalists; then, in the afternoon, they met with Jake.  
  
It wasn’t until almost twenty-four hours after having met in New Orleans, therefore, that Julian and Garak finally had time to talk.  
  
“You look really uncomfortable,” Julian observed when they’d finished watching their interview, and got up, drawing Garak over to the couch with him. They settled there, Julian’s back against the wide armrest and Garak leaning against Julian.  
  
“It’s like you said. Cardassians don’t talk about their private life. I’m going to have some explaining to do when I get back home.”  
  
Julian frowned, wondering why that hadn’t occurred to him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just blame it on the hysterical Humans. Speaking of which, looks like people are starting to leave,” he added, waving a vague hand towards the window. There were only a few journalists and supporters/protesters (it was hard to tell the difference from a distance) still out on the HQ lawn.  
  
“Good. Perhaps I can now leave HQ without being asked ridiculous questions.”  
  
They laughed, then, and shared the anecdotes of their encounters with journalists during those brief moments that they had ventured outside; Julian could report on actually having been asked to explain, ‘as a doctor’, the difference between Human and Cardassian anatomy.  
  
“I’d wait for a little longer till you and your parents leave HQ, though,” Garak finally said.  
  
Julian groaned. “I might opt for staying here with you, then, if that’s all right.”  
  
Garak turned to him, smiling. “That bad?”  
  
“My dad and me in the same room for longer than twelve hours – you really wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” Julian shrugged. “Though I guess we learned a little from each other this time. So explain to me why it was so dangerous for us to leave HQ? I mean, I read the articles about Sarek and Amanda, but…”  
  
Garak frowned, again tensing up a little. “Helen Porter, again. In the few contacts we had, she kept insinuating she’d heard of some people who wanted to harm you and your parents. And then I kept getting this anonymous message that said you would pay for being ‘traitors to the human race’.”  
  
“What?!” Julian stared down at Garak, who had his eyes closed. “I had absolutely no idea that that was going on. Did you try to find out where this message came from?”  
  
Garak just nodded. “Didn’t put much effort in it, though, I was busy tracking down Porter. I was going to have another look at it tomorrow.”  
  
Julian let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, will you let me try?”  
  
Garak sat up. “Julian, we should relax. Anyway, the message has been relayed to Security. They’re working on it, too.”  
  
Julian folded his arms, just staring at him. He didn’t have to say it; Garak knew perfectly well that Julian had a good chance of figuring it out before anyone from Security even got to the first level of backtracking.  
  
His partner sighed, then got up, getting his PADD and handing it to Julian. “I kept a copy of it just in case.”  
  
“Of course you did.” Julian took the PADD and started working, Garak looking over his shoulder. He saw him smiling once out of the corner of his eye, and at one particularly difficult turning point he thought he even heard him whistle. After a while he didn’t see or hear anything anymore, completely lost in the numbers.  
  
He didn’t know how much time had passed when he’d finally arrived at a dead end: a string of numbers perhaps indicating a location or a specific transmitting station. “That’s all I can find for now. We should run this through Security, maybe they’ve got a match,” he said, saving it on the PADD, then looking up at Garak.  
  
There it was again, that look his partner had given him at the Siskos’ place, and he was pleased to realize that he had impressed (and stimulated) Garak once again.  
  
“No need,” Garak said in a husky voice. “I know that number. That’s Helen Porter’s signature.” Now Julian could see that next to looking impressed with Julian, he was also angry with himself.  
  
“So she sent the message.”  
  
“Looks like it.” Garak lowered his gaze, then took Julian’s hands in his. “I should have explained it all to you sooner, dearest.”  
  
“Yes,” Julian said, simply. Garak looked up quickly and seemed a little relieved to see that Julian was smiling.  
  
“I was so focused on tracking her down – she really got to me, you see. She kept hinting at other things she might find, and I was sure that if I let her carry on, she’d find out something about my past before DS9, if you get my meaning.”  
  
Julian nodded. A journalist from Earth revealing that the Cardassian ambassador, foreign secretary and erstwhile First Minister of the interim government was a former operative of the Obsidian Order would be nothing short of catastrophic for the New Cardassian Republic.  
  
“And do you still think she or someone else might find that out?”  
  
“I doubt it. I carefully purged everything I could find when I became minister of the interim government, and made another double- and triple-check this week.”  
  
“Ah.” Julian felt slightly more reassured; after all, ‘everything Garak could find’ was quite a lot. “Would you like me to do a quadruple-check at some point?”  
  
Garak smiled. “Only if you let me watch.”  
  
How his partner managed to make something like that sound suggestive, Julian didn’t know, but he leant in and kissed him all the same. Garak responded enthusiastically, his hands threading through Julian’s hair. Julian sighed contentedly. How could he have ever thought, even fleetingly, that this passion was dying down?  
  
“However,” Garak said after a while as they sat embracing each other, “what we do have to prepare ourselves for is more digging and more publicity. There will undoubtedly be more articles about our time on DS9, about the war, etcetera.”  
  
“It will die down after a while, though,” Julian said. “People will start accepting it. That’s just the nature of things.”  
  
“If you say so, dearest. You know your people better than I ever will.”  
  
“I guess that’s true.” Julian stroked his partner’s back for a while, then made up his mind to ask the difficult question which had been occupying his thoughts. “So be honest with me. Did you, at some point during this past week, think about ending this?”  
  
Garak drew back abruptly, and the shocked look on his face actually made Julian laugh.  
  
“So, that’s a no then.”  
  
“Of course it’s a no. Who do you take me for? Some teenager who will run at the slightest trouble?”  
  
“No, it’s just…” He sighed. “It’s not exactly good for the State, this kind of scandal, is it?”  
  
Garak shook his head, evidently still astonished that Julian would even think about it. “You’d be surprised how relaxed Osharan is about this. He seems to think some scandal will do us good after all this war talk.”  
  
He paused, looking down, and covered Julian’s hands with his own. He seemed to take a long time himself deciding to ask his next question.  
  
“Were you thinking about ending it, dearest?”  
  
“Of course not.” They smiled at each other. “Just… you know. Next time your claustrophobia gets the better of you and you run off on a man- or womanhunt, don’t leave me behind.”  
  
“I promise, dearest,” Garak just said. After a moment, he added, “Forgive me.”  
  
Julian knew how much that must have cost him.  
  
They embraced tightly again, their limbs intertwining until nobody really knew anymore what belonged to whom, and Julian thought how silly he had been, even doubting for a moment that whatever happened, he and Elim now belonged to each other.  


**The End**


End file.
